World Meeting Calamity
by im-a-nation
Summary: It was a sunny morning, everyone was glad to be meeting up for once but later someone or some pair decides to burst into the conference and that's when the calamity starts to roll. Including: Amercan,Fruk,Rochu,Gerita, slight pruhun and spamano.
1. Chapter 1

_I do not own Hetalia, all rights to original owners and this is dedicated to my North American bro, my 51__st__ state, Canada :3 Well, all feedback and reviews appreciated, I'm also going to be doing this in chapters so yeah, I also wrote this at night so excuse the horrendous lack of brilliant ideas. Enjoy~_

_Im-a-nation_

World Meeting Calamity

It was a fine day, the sun blazing outside; the distant prickly boysenberry bush erupted with a trill of hungry parakeets. In the conference room, in precisely ten minutes, a world conference would be held. An excited light chatter stirred between the punctual nations. They were seated one by one, along an extended insipid auburn table.

On the very left, a sophisticated Austrian was trying to refrain from choking the irksome Prussian and his vexing minuscule but petite 'chicken nugget' as Austria liked to call it. The 'chicken nugget' was fluttering unstably around Roderich's head, making him feel slightly nauseous, his eyes trailing the yellow delicate floating fluff ball. The nugget made a dainty landing on the dark chocolate headed Austrian and shuffled his way to scrutinise the wild irregular curl, every soft step it took, a stray strand of hair would perk up leaving the Austrian enraged and cue his rant.

"Do you know how long it takes me to fix my hair in the morning, not to mention the pieces of dirt the insolent nugget has weaved into my hair!?"

He hollered only earning a mocking horror expression from the cocky albino.

"He's not a nugget, he's called Gilbird and he only slightly jazzed up your hair a bit. I must say se look ist rather… du"

He said, his voice trembling but coated with his strong accent, refraining from the explosion of laughter that would erupt if he said more. The albino had triggered the last straw; the Austrian gave an unintelligible howl and lunged at the Prussian. Glimpses of handfuls of platinum blonde hair shone in the victorious Austrian's hands, triggering a blood curding shriek from the albino.

"Why did Hungary have to visit her parents on this particular day? The least she could do is lend me that invincible frypan of hers" the Austrian said, barely audible and sulked on his bitter misfortune. The vicious fight alarmed a certain Wang Yao who was seated beside the pair, punches slicing through the air.

"Ai ya!" exclaimed Wang Yao, who was skilfully attempting to pick up the last remaining fragile steam bun from the canary yellow bamboo steamer he had recently painted but was knocked onto the new beige carpet, hardly staining it, by an unaware Russian who was too occupied with braiding the older nation's ponytail. The Russian finished his work off by tightening an extended piece of fuchsia pink ribbon around the end of the braid.

"R-R-Russia, what in the Chinatown are you doing, aru?!" He stammered, bewildered, wondering if his clear amber eyes had deceived him. Was there really a ribbon laced in his coffee brown hair?

The older nation was receiving many suggestive glances from other nations. He swiftly avoided the gazes and looked away, trying to prevent the slightly pink cheeks from being spotted.

"I thought you'd look cute with a ribbon, da." A content Russian said whilst gazing softly at his cherished sunflower.

"Just shut up and drink your vodka" replied the older nation as he felt his cheeks burn again.

Just next to China, was another bickering couple.

"I'm _surrounded_ by negative auras…" He thought pointlessly.

"Da…"

"Oh shut up…" he said with dismay, the Russian wouldn't let him remove the absurd accessory from his hair.

A loud commotion started, and China shot them a disapproving look and hung his head in misery.

"Stop it, you git! My hair looks fine! Don't touch me, you wanker!" The Brit said, a few more English insults tumbling out of his mouth.

"Your hair is sticking straight up! It's impossible for you to have my luscious silky hair but I can try to fix your helpless state." He said whilst elegantly positioning chunks of sun touched blonde hair into precise positions. He paused and gazed lovingly at the 'new' transformed Brit, soaking up every inch of detail. It resulted in Arthur sitting with his arms folded orderly, his willow green uniform perfectly outlining his slender figure, his upper lip turned up and a scowl glued onto his face.

Abruptly realizing his mistake, he pulled on his poker face.

Excitement began to build up in the Frenchman's voice.

'Angleterre, was that a pout I just happen to see?'

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?!" he hissed, surly.

"Naw, Angleterre no need to be upset that you can't have my magnificent hair, I'm only helping you with yours, because I _love _you.' The Frenchman chuckled at the sight of the flushed cheeks.

'Who wants _your_ love, frog?' The Englishmen spat through clenched teeth, determined to hide his growing affection from the dashing figure cloaked in vibrant cobalt identical to his capturing eyes. _He could wander endlessly in those brilliant eyes. _Despite that the couple instantly went back to their petty bickering.

Somewhere in the middle of the table, a loud wail could be heard.

"Germany, please try some of my exquisite pasta, you won't regret it, pasta is what makes the world go round.' The Italian beamed his addicting smile and pestered the German persistently.

"It can't be that bad, I mean I've tried England's food…_"_ the German whispered under his breath, afraid of what the Englishman would do if he heard him. _No matter how hard the disciplined German tried to refuse something, it never happened, he would always give up to his lover-er friend. _

The austere German rolled his eyes but had no choice but to try the Italian's food. The Italian's beam widened as the German placed the fork, covered with penne pasta, the chunky sauce gleamed under a ray of light that shone through stylish primrose window opposite them.

"So how was it?" questioned the Italian rather fast, eager to hear the German's answer. The German sat in silence, eyes looking around scouring for a word to describe the taste, building suspense for the poor Italian.

"It's…good…" the German replied hesitantly.

The Italian grinned with utmost pride and planted a quick soft peck on the unexpected German. The German froze, bewildered and silently sunk into his chair; cheeks redden and felt strangely light headed.

"Way to score, West!' A loud, raspy abrasive yell echoed through the spacious room, followed by a pair of raised eyebrows, a content sly smirk and a suggestive wink from the vexing albino. The German made a quick recovery and hollered.

"I've seen what you do with Hungary when Austria's out!" The albino's eyes quivered, sensing a murderous aura engulf him.

The Austria's fiery eyes blazed. "What did you do with Hungary?! I'm going to crush you with my piano but I'd feel sorry for the abused piano, we are going to settle this outside!"

With that the fuming Austrian hauled the albino by his chalky collar, out the door onto the smoky pavement. _That might have been the end of Prussia. _

The German, pleased with himself, looked back at Italy. Wait. Where was the Italian? Ludwig panicked, eyes bouncing all over the room seeking a certain gelato addict with an outgoing curl on the left of his head. A rather loud distressed cry was heard. The voice sounded familiar, he turned around and noticed the Italian 'assisting' his older brother.

"Lovi, please just give me one hug, just one" pleaded Spain, his tender green eyes had doubled in size.

"NO! You tomato bastard!" he shot, as he rudely turned away from the desperate Antonio. _How_ was Italy 'assisting'? He was singing Bella Notte, reaching a pleasant, elegant tone, also quietly coaxing Lovino. The sweet but oblivious nation was trying to persuade his stubborn brother to sacrifice one hug…

_The strange Italian has a marvelous skill of making it impossible for others to refuse him, perhaps it was because of his endless cheery personality or the sweet nature laced with his infamous oblivion and foolishness, nevertheless, Lovino couldn't resist his brother's charming but silly persuading._

Lovino sighed as if all his happiness was drained from his system and murmured.

"Fine, I'll give you one hug…"

Antonio's face lit up a smile so bright, it intimated the sun. He eagerly pulls Lovino into his arms, Lovino squirming like a trapped kitten.

"Ok, now let me go!" he demanded.

Out of nowhere, an agile Japan glided into the picture, drawn out his silver Canon Ixus and rapidly took ten photos of Lovino in Antonio's lap…

"NO!" Lovino yelled in vain, but the Japanese man had already disappeared. In the midst of the entire calamity, BOOM! America and Canada busted down the new door that was recently put in two days ago. The intense silence seeped into every corner of the room and left all the nations gawping, for they were in utmost astonishment…

_Haha, thanks for reading~ Cliff hanger :3 muahaha I'm so evil. _


	2. Chapter 2

_Here's chapter two and thanks for reading, enjoy~ Reviews appreciated. _

There they stood, drenched, thin beads of water formed a petite stream and rolled down their arms in suspense, the sun reflecting off the remaining glistening droplets on their arms. The mischievous and almost identical North American brothers stood tall, unashamed in only their bare boxers; their 'majestic' flags proudly positioned in the centre, on their crotch.

'_Some would call them two peas in a pod' _

"What the bloody hell is going on here?!" demanded the aggravated Englishman as he pounded the victimized table, the booming bouncing off the walls, his bristly wild eyebrows sharply angled, as if about to intersect any moment now.

It went by unheard by the blonde pair. They simultaneously unearthed a handful of cheap stick on tattoos from their barely visible pockets, each of their own glorious flag, and lunged at each other. They wrestled, locking each other wrists together and forcefully trying to plant the dry tattoo on one's damp forehead.

"You are going to become my 51st state, whether you like it or not!" The American shouted whilst struggling to keep the Canadian's wrists together, normally he would have succeed with ease however the Canadian was rather wild today and couldn't be restrained, flailing and squirming; absentmindedly slapping the poor American, skin reddening with every blow leaving behind faint outlines of the Canadian's pale hands, on countless occasions, refusing to sacrifice his pride.

"Never, I'm going to own you, your McDonalds, Burger King, Taco Ball and all!" He yelled, his calm liquid amethyst eyes, now quivering with determination; a fierce blazing lavender.

"It's Taco Bell, get it right! Geez, Mattie!" The American yelled with frustration.

The Englishman released an exasperated sigh, his head retreating to the palms of his mapped hands.

"Girls, girls you're both beautiful!" The Brit shouted over the boisterous and painfully increasing noise, pleading that this nonsense would desist, it was causing the usually calm tea loving gentleman an agonizing headache, but he was so terribly wrong; the two blonde splitting images, different by only their distinctive curls and the soothing shades of their eyes, had flared up another petty debate.

"I'm more beautiful than you!" The American strongly convinced.

"You wish you could be this fabulous!" The Canadian pointed out, motioning his hand up and down his body as if to say that he was _much_ better than the loud mouthed, burger craving American.

A loud slap could be heard.

An intense blanket of silence smothered the room.

All heads spun around to face an irritated Englishman, a fresh outline of his hand painted on his forehead. A certain Japanese man shuffled slowly and cautiously towards the Brit, pulled out his lustrous silver camera and hastily snapped a picture, a moment of blinding light and there it was; the masterpiece planted on the Arthur's forehead, now in embed in the memory chip of his treasured camera.

The American looked puzzled, oblivious to core, his dazzling whirlpools of azure gazed at the Englishman in curiosity. The Englishman rolled his emerald eyes. What did he expect; the American would probably just continue his frivolous bickering with his brother.

Using the silence to the American's advantage, he hastily peeled the tattoo and with one brisk movement the tattoo was now fixed on the gaping Canadian's forehead. The Canadian returned to his senses quickly and whined.

"That was a cheap shot, and you know it!" accused the baffled Canadian.

The corners of the American's mouth tilted upwards slowly increasing to a delighted face of a five-year-old when given ice-cream, as he too came to realize that he had done it, he has now 'claimed' the poor Canadian.

A short and quick slap was heard.

The witty Canadian, being much more agile than the American, also had a taste of sweet delectable revenge, a Canadian flag also glued on the forehead of his mirror image.

They paused for a moment to take in their sugar coated victory before prancing around the room belting soulful but notes.

"I AM THE CHAMPION! GONE IS THE LOSER!" The pair circled each other, taunting.

Whoosh! A cold merciless blast of water left the dripping stiffened blonde pair pinned to the spot as the air around then stilled. All heads once again turned to face the content Englishman, satisfied gleam contaminated his clear jade eyes, a smirk never leaving his face grasping a bright apricot and cerulean water gun, the length of his arm. His hard stare fixed on the troublemakers.

A gentle snigger broke the silence.

"Ohonhonhon, Angleterre you look rather sex-"

"Shut up or you're getting wet too." His cheeks flaring realizing what he said and was easily picked up by the Frenchman accompanied by another "Ohonho-"

A smirk crawling across Arthur's smug face.

"Angleterre, how dare you soak my luscious hair?!"

"You asked for it"

The Frenchman yelped whilst twisting his golden locks trying to force the unwanted droplets out. A shot of water bombarded the unaware Englishman, aghast he looked around for his attacker.

"I-I-Italy?" He sputtered.

The innocent wide eyed Italian tilted his head to the side and gave a cheeky smile, weapon resting in his arms.

_After 5 minutes everyone was rushing out the door to collect their own weapons… A calamity in the world meeting was just around the corner._

_The End_

Hope you enjoyed it, feedback appreciated reviews and also grammatical errors.


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